Grace's Amazing Hands
by cmaddict
Summary: Definitely AU. Can two medics and two nurses survive the worst battle of World War II? Will their resolve to be together be enough to keep them alive? MerDer, Maddison. Standard disclaimers apply.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I have absolutely no idea where I got the idea for this particular piece, but it's something extremely new for me. I've never ever written a period piece before. Anyways, the majority of this story takes place during the Battle of the Bulge in World War II in December 1944. Since it's a period piece, I'm going to try to stay historically accurate as far as the battle is concerned. Most of the GA's characters will be in this, but they will have minor roles. Reviews make me write more, so please, tell me what you think!**

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_Christmas 1994- Seattle, Washington_

A soft snow floated down from the darkened Seattle sky. It was Christmas time again. The hustle and bustle of the city winded down on this Christmas Eve, as families went to their homes and loved ones came into the city.

Elise Jameson scraped plates over her father's kitchen sink, allowing the leftover Christmas Eve dinner to go down the drain. She glanced every once in a while to the living room, where her father, her husband, and her six-year-old son watched Alistair Sims' "A Christmas Carol." It had been a family tradition ever since she was a little girl. Her mother would hold hands tightly with her father, and her five older brothers and sisters would sandwich little Elise in the middle. It was good to see that the family tradition would carry on, even without her mother.

She grinned as her son screamed at the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come. Little Derek always did that. Every year, the little boy named for her father would yell and jump into his grandfather's lap, hiding his face in his soft shirt. It, in itself, had become yet another Christmas tradition.

Elise put away the last dish and joined her family in the living room as the movie was ending. The last line, "He knew how to keep Christmas well," wafted through the living room.

Elise's father patted the little boy on the leg. "Your grandma always loved that movie."

Little Derek shifted around in his grandfather's lap. "How did you meet Grandma?" he asked, his big blue eyes connecting with his grandfather's.

The old man smiled at him and sat him down on the couch. He went over to the mantelpiece, took down a framed photograph, and handed it to the little boy. "We met in France, during World War II."

"What's World War II?"

The elderly man smiled at the boy again, his eyes twinkling. "It was a big war that was a long, long time ago, before you were born."

"Before Mommy was born?"

"Yep."

"Wow," he whispered, astounded.

The man gently took the picture out of its frame and turned it over. He pointed to the handwritten note on the back of it. "See, it says, 'Derek Shepherd and Meredith Grey, Christmas 1944."

"That was a long time ago," little Derek said.

Derek laughed. "It sure was. That was one of the first times I met her. See, she was a nurse, and I was a soldier. She saved my life."

"Tell me about it, Grandpa."

He laughed again and shook his head. "I think it's about time you went to bed."

"_Please?"_ the little boy begged. He ran to his mother and hugged her tightly around the legs. "Please, Mommy?"

She thought for a moment, then smiled at her dad. "I think it's about time he heard the story."

"Yay!" he shouted happily. He climbed back into his grandfather's lap. "Tell me."

Derek laughed and held his grandson tightly. "Okay. It was about this time of year, in France. Everyone had been saying that we'd be home by Christmas, but the German's kept pushing through our lines. It was beginning to look like we'd be there for a while. It was freezing, and we didn't have enough clothes and blankets to keep us warm. There were a lot of people hurt."

Derek paused and let his mind wander sixty years back, to a night very similar, but horrifically different, than this.

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_December 1944—The Ardennes Forest, France_

"Derek!"

At the sound of his best friend's voice, U.S. Army Sergeant Derek Shepherd whipped around, blowing on his hands to keep them warm.

Sergeant Mark Sloan ran up to him, carrying a little white medical kit. "This was all I could get off of the boys in C company."

"Damn," he muttered. He pulled up his medic's armband a little higher on his arm, careful not to cover his 101st Airborne Division patch. "I hear this is supposed to get bad."

"Yeah," his fellow medic concurred, glancing around at the men marching into what was known as the Ardennes forest. "Did you see those guys coming out?"

Derek nodded. "I hear they got the crap shelled out of them. Those Krauts must be dug in good."

Mark nodded. "Yep. Wanna get to a foxhole?"

"We'd better, in case they start shelling again."

At the nearby aid station, Lieutenant Addison Montgomery ripped apart one of the many white sheets she had in front of her. She had seen enough battle already to know that this one was going to be bad. The medical supplies were stuck somewhere in Normandy, the men didn't have enough warm clothes, and the temperature was still falling.

"Hey," a soft voice sounded behind her.

She turned to see one of her closest friends, Lieutenant Meredith Grey, standing behind her. "Hey yourself. Give me a hand, will you?"

Meredith stepped to the other side of the cot and grabbed one of the sheets. "So," she said quietly. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Addison looked up at her and sighed. "Not yet. But it will be."

"I talked to some people that just came from the hospital in England. They have a bunch there that took some heavy hits."

"Seems like it's bad all over," Addison whispered. "First Normandy, then Holland, now back in France. I wish Hitler would just say the hell with it and go on home."

Meredith glanced outside. "At least it's a white Christmas."

Addison chuckled mirthlessly as the sound of distant shelling reached their ears. "Tell that to the boys outside with no winter clothes."

Meredith ripped another bandage. "I'm just trying to remember why I signed up."

"Yeah." Addison put down the sheet and caught Meredith's eyes. "Why did you sign up?"

The younger woman sighed. "Liberty. Everyone deserves liberty." She paused. "You?"

"They wouldn't let me fight," Addison replied. "I had to get here somehow."

Meredith sighed again. "Yeah."

Soon darkness fell over the Ardennes. Nurses and medics alike stared skyward, wondering when it would all start. Hoping ardently that it was just going to be a bad dream. Realizing despondently that it wasn't. Praying desperately for daylight.


	2. Stop This Train

**A/N: Sorry about the delay, but I was kinda discouraged. So many hits and so few reviews! But thanks to the ones that did review, particularly loves2writestories and sparklepop77. I really appreciate it. Btw- I didn't mention it before, but the title's from a Dave Barnes song off of his "Brother Bring the Sun" album. Please review this one... the little purple button's getting lonely there.**

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_Stop this train  
I wanna get off and go home again  
I can't take the speed it's movin' in  
I know I can, but honestly, won't someone stop this train  
-- John Mayer, "Stop This Train_

_**December 18, 1944—Ardennes Forest, France**_

"Medic!"

The scream jolted Mark and Derek out of their semi-asleep state. They sat up in their foxhole and craned their necks over the edge, looking around.

"Medic!" Another scream pierced the cold night air.

"I got it," Derek muttered as he adjusted his helmet and hopped over the side. Mark watched until Derek disappeared, and then settled back into the warmest spot he could find.

Derek ran low to the ground, making sure he didn't attract any attention from the waiting Nazi line. He knew he was close to the front lines, and though the trees were thick, they weren't thick enough. Seeing someone running toward him, he slowed down slightly.

"Doc!" the figure yelled.

"O'Malley? Is that you?" he whispered back. "Keep your voice down, for Christ's sake. You wanna get your Irish ass shot off?"

Corporal George O'Malley came alongside Derek and grabbed his arm. "It's Karev, Doc. He's hurt bad." George pulled him toward the wounded soldier. Private Alex Karev lay unmoving on the ground, the snow around his body growing red from the blood pouring out of his arm. Derek knelt in the snow next to him and started pulling things out of his satchel.

"Damn artery," he muttered. He quickly tied a tourniquet onto the wounded arm, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Karev's platoon commander, Lieutenant James Fuller, gravely watched the medic. "What happened?" Derek asked as he pulled out some morphine.

"Kraut patrol," Fuller said quietly, holding Karev's head up.

"I'm sorry, sir," Karev said, in near hysterics.

"Hey, hey, it wasn't your fault," Fuller soothed, lightly stroking his hair.

Derek injected the morphine into Karev's other arm. "Hey, just relax, Alex. You're gonna be okay," Derek whispered quietly. As Karev calmed down, Derek pushed an IV into his other arm and handed the bag to Fuller. "Where's the transport, sir," he asked softly.

"I radioed for it as soon as I got over here."

"Damn it," Derek muttered. "He's gotta get this sown up now." He glanced down at the wound. It was deep, clear down to the bone. Blood pumped out of it by the cup. Derek shook his head and stuck a finger into the hole. He grimaced as he felt the blood seep through.

Just then, a Jeep pulled up a few yards away.

"Get him up," Derek ordered. O'Malley and another soldier, Bill Cattore, made a cradle for him with their hands, and Fuller and Derek pulled him to his feet. "Keep that arm level!" They carried him to a stretcher on the front of the Jeep and, once he was tied on, Derek and the driver took off toward the aid station.

_Boom!_ Suddenly the ground erupted in front of them. The driver swerved quickly, and Derek threw himself onto Karev. Rocks and dirt rained down on them from the newly formed crater in the snow and earth. "Sorry 'bout that," the driver muttered as they passed it. "Germans have been shelling us for the past couple of days."

Derek shook his head. It would have been almost funny if that one hadn't been so close.

They screeched to a halt in front of the aid station. Meredith ran out to meet them. "This way," she said, grabbing the IV from Derek. She led them to an empty bed. Derek moved to get around her.

"Damn," she whispered, getting a good look at Karev's wound. She looked up at Derek. "How long ago?"

"About thirty minutes."

She shook her head. "Shoulda gotten him sooner."

"Look," he shot back, his voice rising, "you try doing stabilizing someone in a war zone."

Meredith ignored him, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. "It's not the time," she muttered, "to get into a pissing fight. He's had morphine."

Derek inhaled deeply. "As soon as I got there. He was freaking out."

"Okay. Cut his sleeve back."

Derek did what she ordered.

"He's lost way too much blood." She grabbed a scalpel and some sutures. Derek looked up to see a man making his way toward them. "Dr. Webber," she said, barely glancing up.

Dr. Richard Webber quickly took the sutures from her. "Brachial artery," he said, looking up at Derek. "Good job on tying that arm up. We'll take care of the rest."

Thirty minutes later, Meredith came over to where Derek was sitting impatiently outside the tent. He stood quickly. She stopped him as soon as he opened his mouth. "Before you ask, he's okay."

Derek exhaled deeply.

"And before you say anything, I forgive you for what you said in there."

"Forgive—what?" he sputtered.

She grinned at him and stuck out her hand. "Meredith Grey."

He shook his head and took it. "Derek Shepherd."

She motioned to the box next to the one he had been sitting on. He nodded and they sat down, in silence for a couple of minutes. "So," she said, breaking the ice, "is it rough out there?"

Derek looked off and nodded. "Yeah," he said simply.

She glanced down at her hands. "How did you get to be a medic?"

He shrugged. "Figured I'd rather save lives than take them." He paused and glanced at her. "You?"

Meredith looked him in the eyes. God, it was so easy to get lost in the deep blue irises, and the concerned furrow of the brow. "Well," she said, clearing her throat nonchalantly, "I had to get away from my parents somehow."

Derek chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

She laughed, a pleasant sound to his ears. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"Try me," he said in a way that was a challenge, at the same time, a gesture of genuine interest.

"My mother's not your typical mom. She'll stop at nothing to get ahead in the world." Meredith sighed. "Even if it means giving up a family."

"Real ambitious, huh?"

Meredith nodded.

"Sounds like a terrific lady."

She chuckled.

Derek glanced at his watch and stood. "Hey I gotta get back to the line. You got some supplies?"

Meredith stood and led him back into the tent. "Whaddya need?"

"I got two vials of morphine." She handed him a box. "Uh, bandages." She handed him another two boxes. "Some more plasma."

She shot him a dirty look. "You're really trying to clean us out."

He shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm out." She quietly handed him another box. "I think that's it for now."

Meredith followed him back into the frigid winter air. "It was a pleasure, Derek Shepherd."

Derek stepped onto the Jeep and smiled at the pretty nurse. "Pleasure's all mine, Meredith Grey."

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**Well, whatcha think? Next chapter's Maddison, I promise!**


	3. On a Night Like This

**A/N: Well, thanks again to those who reviewed. I won't threaten to quit writing, because I really like this story, but I'd love some reviews. Seriously. Oh, and I made a tiny little mistake on the last chapter. The 101st Airborne was actually in the Belgian side of the Ardennes, outside Bastogne. So after I did my research, I corrected that in this chapter. Anyways, here's some Maddison, like I promised!**

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__On a night like this, I could fall in love,  
__I could fall in love with you  
__In this dark so dense, we talk so soft  
__The way young lovers do  
__-- Dave Barnes, "On a Night Like This"_

_**December 20, 1944—Just outside Bastogne, Belgium**_

Derek shouldered his pack and helped Mark into his. "Okay," Mark said, struggling with the shoulder strap.

"Okay what?" Derek shook his head and held out the strap for Mark to slip his arm into.

"What the hell happened at that aid station?"

Derek avoided Mark's eyes as he handed him a package of bandages. "Nothing," he murmured.

"Bull," Mark said triumphantly. "You've been brooding about something since you got back two days ago."

"Brooding?"

"Yeah, brooding." Mark tucked the package of bandages into his satchel.

"I'm pretty sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever." Mark grabbed Derek's shoulder as he tried to slip out the door. "C'mon. I'm your best friend."

Derek sighed. "Fine. I might have met a girl."

"A girl?"

"That's what I said. A nurse." Derek turned to grab some more packages.

"A nurse?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Derek quipped as he stuffed the packages into his and Mark's satchels.

"Is she pretty?"

Derek sighed. "Gorgeous."

Mark leaned against the side of their foxhole and tilted his helmet back. "Damn. I gotta check out that aid station."

"Yeah, sure, Romeo. Take this, will ya?" Derek handed him some vials of morphine. "I think we're gonna need 'em."

Mark sighed as he took the vials and stuffed them into his aid kit. "Did you hear about that massacre the other day?"

Derek's face went grim. "Yeah. Baugnez."

"Bastards killed American prisoners, Derek. They had surrendered."

"I know. St. Vith is under attack, from what Major Pyke was saying yesterday. Not looking good for this thing being over by Christmas."

"Doesn't look too good, does it?" An unfamiliar voice startled them, and they sat up in their hole. The company commander, Captain Williams, squatted down at the edge of their hole. "Now, explain to me why we have two medics in one foxhole?"

Mark and Derek grinned. "Sorry, Captain, I was just getting supplies," Mark said, winking slightly at Derek.

"Uh-huh. What happens if the Krauts start shelling this place again and hit your foxhole?"

Mark grimaced and pulled himself out of the hole. "I'll go find another hole, sir."

"Yeah, good idea." Williams started to walk away.

"Hey, sir?" Mark called out as he ran to catch up to him.

Williams turned around to face his medic.

"Is it true they have this place surrounded?"

The captain sighed and put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "Yeah." He gave the shoulder a slight squeeze and walked away.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle screeched through the overcast sky. Mark stared up into the sky until a tree exploded nearby. Mark held onto his helmet for dear life as he dove into the nearest foxhole.

What followed was one of the most awesome displays of firepower in the history of mankind. Shells exploded overhead as shrapnel rained down on the men. Trees disintegrated into splinters. Mark covered his head as dirt and snow coated his body. He was genuinely scared for his life. There was nothing he could do except cower in his foxhole.

A couple of minutes later, all went quiet. Eerily quiet. Mark peeked over the edge of the hole. Then the screaming started.

"Medic!" mixed with orders to "Stay in your foxholes!"

Mark jumped out of the hole and practically crawled across the line. "Medic!" What he saw turned even his stomach.

First Sergeant Joe Peters met him at the hole. Sergeant Mike Hendrick moaned in pain as he saw what was left of his leg. His foot and ankle lay in a bloody heap on the other side of the foxhole.

"Okay, Mike," Mark said as he jumped into the foxhole. "You're gonna be okay."

"Oh, my leg. Oh, God, it hurts like hell," Hendrick groaned.

"You're gonna be okay," Mark said soothingly. "Hey, Joe, get in here, will ya?"

Peters jumped into the hole and gently held Mike's head. "Hey, buddy," he whispered. "I'm right here. You're gonna be just fine."

Mark gave him a shot of morphine in his arm and wrote the letter "M" on his buddy's forehead in blood. "All right, let's get him out before they start up again." Mark draped Hendrick's arm around his shoulder and the two men slid him out of the hole onto the ground. Hendrick yelled in pain as his leg came into contact with the cold ground. "Hey, hey," Mark said as he sprang out of the hole. "You're okay, you're okay."

Hendrick grabbed onto their shoulders as they carried him away from the line. Another shell whistled overhead and exploded a few yards away. "Oh, crap," Mark muttered as they tried to steer him away. They got him to a waiting Jeep and Mark carefully placed him on the stretcher. As they sped away toward the aid station, he grabbed some plasma from his pack and stuck it into Hendrick's arm.

Mark's jaw dropped as they pulled up to the aid station. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen ran out of the makeshift hospital to meet them. Her red hair was tied tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her uniform was smeared with blood, but she was still gorgeous. _Damn. Derek was right_, he thought briefly before she got to their vehicle.

"Take him in here," she ordered, making eye contact with Mark for a brief second before she turned on her heel to go back into the tent.

Mark and the driver obliged by gently lifting Hendrick off the front of the Jeep. They carried him past moaning, bleeding soldiers. The wounded littered the floors of the hospital, as the more critical patients got the beds. As they carried him to a bed, Mark looked around in horror at the carnage.

"Did you get the leg?" Addison asked Mark as they lowered him onto the bed.

Mark shook his head, meeting her bright blue eyes.

Addison gently stroked Hendrick's head. "There's nothing much we can do here. We'll bind up the wound to prevent infection and keep him drugged, but we'll medivac him to the hospital in Paris." Addison glanced up to see Mark turning pale. "You okay, soldier?"

Mark swallowed hard. "I don't…"

She quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the exit. "Let's get some fresh air," she said.

Mark breathed in deeply as they stepped out into the frigid night air. The pretty nurse led him to some boxes to the side of the tent and sat him down. He held his head in his hands as Addison sat down next to him, rubbing small circles on his back. Finally, after several minutes, he lifted his head up and looked her straight in the eye. "Sorry about that," he muttered.

She grinned. "Happens more often than you think."

"It's just…"

"I know," she sighed.

"How do you do that?" he asked. "I mean, I see a lot on the lines, but I don't think I've ever seen that much in one place."

Addison looked off into the distance and hesitated. The only sound that reached their ears was the booms of distant shelling. The screams of the dying confined themselves to the hospital tent. "I put it out of my mind and just try to save their lives."

Mark glanced down at her hands. They were brown with dried blood, but they were beautiful. He reached out and gently took one of them in his own. "Your hands."

She blushed as her hand made contact with his, and was suddenly grateful for the gathering darkness. "What about them?"

Mark looked into those blue eyes that tried desperately to hide her excitement. "They're healers' hands."

Addison flushed even deeper, eternally grateful for the night. "Why, soldier, you don't even know my name," she said lightly, trying desperately to make a joke.

He grinned at her. "I make friends easily."

She laughed despite herself. "Addison Montgomery."

"I like it when you laugh." He maneuvered her hand to shake it. "Mark Sloan." He held onto her hand a little longer than necessary, until she gently pulled away to stand.

"Well, Mark Sloan, I'd better get back to my patients."

He stood too and moved closer to her. "Yeah. I'd better get back to the line."

She grew even more uncomfortable as he moved even closer. His face was less than six inches from hers, and no amount of resistance could keep her from tilting her head toward him. _Oh, God, he's leaning forward._

Mark gently put his mouth next to her ear. "Goodnight, Addison Montgomery," he whispered huskily. He grinned as he watched her practically melt. Then he disappeared into the night.

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C'mon guys. Please, please hit that little purple/blue button! 


	4. Stand

**A/N: Well, I am very pleasantly surprised at the reviews I got last chapter. I hate to beg, so I'm very, very grateful. Especially to loves2writestories and sparklepop777, who have never failed to review! I greatly appreciate it. Anyways, I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I've been working on a non-fanfiction story at this site's sistersite. And I was suffering from acute writer's block. But I hope you guys like this chapter... it's kind of angsty, but I wanted to get across the hopelessness they must have been feeling. And please, as always, review!!!**

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'_Cause when push comes to shove  
__You taste what you're made of  
__You might bend, till you break  
_'_Cause it's all you can take  
__On your knees you look up  
__Decide you've had enough  
__You get mad, you get strong  
__Wipe your hands, shake it off  
__Then you stand.  
__-- Rascal Flatts, "Stand"_

_**December 21, 1944—Aid station, Bastogne, Belgium**_

"Hey! Nurse!"

Addison turned around to see Private Karev pushed up on one arm in his bed. "Yes, Private?" she asked as she pulled the blankets up over him.

"C'mon," he said, giving her his best grin. "I've been here for three days."

She stood and smiled at him. "Your point, soldier?"

"When can I get back to my unit?"

Addison grinned at his hopeful look. "Do you have full range of motion yet?"

"Maybe…" He tried to cover his wince as Addison grabbed his arm and pulled it up.

Addison saw it, though, and smiled inwardly. "See? Doesn't hurt at all."

"Uh-huh." Addison let go of his arm and frowned slightly. "You sure you wanna go back to the line?"

Alex nodded. "Oh yeah," he said sincerely.

Addison sighed. "Fine." She smiled as a wide grin spread across Alex's face. "But I want you to be careful. You've still got stitches in there."

"Yes ma'am!" Alex couldn't stop grinning as he jumped out of his bed and dashed toward the door of the tent.

"Stevens," Addison motioned to the blonde nurse on the other side of the room. Isobel Stevens stepped across several wounded men in her attempt to get to Addison.

"Yes, ma'am?" she asked, snapping to attention.

Addison sighed. "You don't have to stand at attention, Izzie. We're in combat."

Izzie furrowed her eyebrows, slightly confused. The by-the-book nurse didn't really understand that rules, like standing at attention when informally talking to a superior, went out the window in combat. The blonde relaxed her shoulders a little, but she kept her hands at her sides.

Addison shook her head, amused. "Never mind. Make sure Private Karev gets his personal belongings before he runs off."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And has Sergeant Hendrick been transferred out yet?"

"He can't yet, ma'am."

"Why not?"

"We're under siege."

The words hit Addison like a ton of bricks. She froze under the weight of those words. A siege meant that it would be almost impossible to get the severely wounded out from the city and to a real hospital. A siege meant that the number of wounded would increase dramatically.

"Ma'am?" Izzie's curious voice snapped Addison out of her thoughts.

"Right," Addison said, shaking her head. "Get Private Karev out of here and back to his buddies."

"Yes, ma'am!" Izzie smartly snapped off a salute, which Addison halfheartedly returned. The blonde turned on her heel and practically marched out of the tent in search of the eager young private.

Addison sighed, still reeling from the news that Bastogne was under a siege. "Meredith!" she called.

Meredith glanced up from the bullet wound she was stitching up. "Over here!" she shouted back.

The elder nurse stepped over another wounded man on a stretcher and joined Meredith. "We need to talk. Outside."

"Hang on. One last suture." Meredith tied off the string and patted the soldier on the shoulder. She followed Addison out into the frigid Belgian air. "What's up?" she asked once they were outside.

Addison took a deep breath and moved closer to Meredith. "We're under siege," Addison said in a low voice.

The other nurse's jaw dropped. "You're serious."

"Yeah. From what I heard from the 101st, the Germans have almost completely surrounded the town. They're starting to paint the road signs into and out of Bastogne so maybe they'll get lost."

"A siege means there's no way we're going to get the wounded to a good hospital."

"And we're going to get a huge influx of wounded if the Germans try to take the town."

Addison nodded. "Better start rationing the plasma and the morphine, and the bandages too. Hopefully our air force will make some supply drops."

"But it could last for days. We're going to lose a lot of men if we can't stabilize them."

"It's a risk we're going to have to take. I heard that they're moving some of the troops out to the forest to put up a line of defense around the city."

"More shelling."

Addison nodded again.

Meredith shook her head. "This doesn't look good." Addison rubbed her forehead, trying to hold back her emotions, and Meredith gently put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

Her friend shook her head, brushing a piece of red hair out of her face. "Yeah. I just… need a minute."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No, no. You get back to the patients."

Meredith nodded and turned to go back into the tent. "Hey, Mer?" Meredith turned back around to see Addison trying to smile and fight back tears at the same time. "I, uh, might have met someone."

Meredith raised her eyebrows. "His name wouldn't happen to be Derek Shepherd, would it?"

Addison shook her head and raised her own eyebrows. "No. Why?"

Meredith grinned at her friend. "No reason." With that she ducked into the tent.

Addison's attempt at a smile quickly faltered, and she sank down onto one of the supply boxes. There was no way out. For either them or the patients. The Germans were on their way, and there was no escape.

She sighed forlornly. It all seemed so hopeless. There was no way out. She and the other nurses were already exhausted with the flood of wounds coming in from the shelling and patrols. Supplies were low. Morale was low. And there was absolutely nothing she could do.

"Addison!" She jumped, startled. She looked up to see Meredith leaning out of the door of the tent.

"What is it?"

"Private McCall moved and ripped out his stitches."

Addison inhaled deeply. _As long as I'm needed, this is where I should be._ "Coming!" she called back. Meredith looked at her for a minute, then ducked back into the tent. _This is where I should be._ Addison slowly stood and opened the tent door, the screams of the wounded greeting her once again.

Addison stepped over the other patients to get to Private McCall. The young man was rolling around on his cot, in deep pain. Addison grabbed his shoulders, trying to settle him down. "Izzie!" she shouted.

In an instant, Izzie was at her side. "Yes, ma'am?"

"When was the last time this man had morphine?"

Izzie pulled his makeshift chart off his bed. "About four hours ago."

"Get him some more morphine. He's in serious pain."

"Ohh. Oh, God, it hurts!" he moaned.

"Shh. Shh, I know," Addison whispered soothingly. "It'll go away in a minute."

"I can't stand it!"

"I know," she whispered. "Izzie!" she yelled.

Izzie ran up to her, holding a syringe. "Here," she said, handing it off to Addison.

"Hold him down," Addison said, pulling the protective cover off the needle. Izzie grabbed him by the shoulders and put all her weight into keeping him still. Addison gently pushed the syringe to get all the air out. She quickly stabbed him in the thigh, and he immediately settled down.

"Okay," Addison sighed. She glanced at Izzie, who slowly let go of his shoulders. McCall exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "Get me some 5-0 silk."

"Yes, ma'am."

Addison sighed again. It was going to be a very, very long couple of days.


	5. Where There Is Faith

**A/N: Wow, I am so sorry it's been so long since I updated. I hit the metaphorial stone wall after the last chapter, and I had no idea where to go from there. But I think I'm good now. Hope you like this chapter! It's a bit angsty, like the last one, but I needed them to definitely explain the way they were feeling.**

**Special thanks to sparklepop777-- who helped me work through my writer's block! This chapter wouldn't have happened without you!**

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_Where there is faith, there is a voice calling "Keep walking,  
You're not alone in this world."  
Where there is faith, there is a peace like a child sleeping,  
Hope everlasting in He Who is able to bear  
Every burden, to heal every hurt in my heart  
It is a wonderful, powerful place-- Where there is faith  
-- 4 Him, "Where There Is Faith."_

_**Early morning, December 22, 1944- Bastogne, Belgium**_

The cold night air deepened as Derek wound his way between foxholes and debris from the shelling. Most of the holes were covered, both to stave off the cold and to keep their position hidden from the enemy hiding just beyond the next clearing. The sounds of German singing drifted through the woods. Derek lifted the corner of one of the covers and slid down into the hole. "Hey fellas," he whispered.

Mark looked up at him, trying not to disturb the slumbering soldier next to him. Corporal Preston Burke let out a snore as Derek plopped down next to him. "Hey," Mark whispered back.

"Found blankets," Derek said, reaching over Burke to hand one to Mark. The two medics gently spread the blankets over the three of them and huddled down in the darkness of the covered hole.

"You hear that singing?" Mark said disdainfully. "They gotta be as cold and miserable as we are."

"Yeah, well, they gotta be sitting on top of the world now. We're the ones with the supply lines blocked and under siege."

They stayed quiet for a moment, listening to the clear tenor voice coming from somewhere nearby. "What do you think that is?" Mark asked. Derek glanced at him. "The song, I mean."

"Oh." Derek rubbed his arms for a moment, thinking.

"You think it's some kind of love song?"

"Maybe a Christmas song."

Mark smiled to himself. "Yeah. I guess love's kinda on my mind lately."

Derek looked at him sharply, but let the comment go.

"What would you be doing now? If you were home?" Mark asked, keeping his eyes trained on the German encampment across the clearing.

Derek sighed. He hadn't thought about home in a long time. Somehow, it made being away from home easier. "Well," he said, thinking aloud, "I guess I would be Christmas shopping."

"Huge family?"

He chuckled once. "Four sisters. And me."

"I'm sorry," Mark said immediately.

Derek grinned. "It's not so bad. I mean, they get a little crazy and everything. But it could definitely be worse."

"How?"

"I could have five sisters."

Mark laughed and rubbed his arms to keep warm. "Yeah, I guess that would be worse." He yawned quickly. "I really don't know what I'd be doing. I don't have much of a family."

Derek paused, not really knowing what to say. "Well," he said, fumbling for a reply. "When this thing is all over, maybe you could share mine."

Mark glanced over at his best friend, who was staring off into the distance. "I'd like that, Derek," he said sincerely.

Derek grinned. "You bet. My turn to ask a question." He looked over at his friend. "Any girls back home?"

The other medic laughed. "A few."

"How many?"

Mark winked at Derek and grinned. "Let's just say a few." He suddenly grew serious. "But I think I might be ready to give all that up."

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "Why's that?"

His companion sighed. "I think I'm in love, Derek."

"With whom?"

"One of the nurses at the aid station. I met her a couple of days ago. Gorgeous redhead."

"Oh, the head nurse?"

"Yeah." He sighed again. "There's just something different about her, you know? She makes me want to do better, be better." He frowned and looked down at the dirt covering the bottom of the foxhole. "It's stupid, I know. I haven't known her all that long."'

"It's not stupid, Mark." Derek looked down at his boots and sighed. "I think I might be in love too."

"Really?"

Derek nodded. "One of the other nurses at the aid station. Grey."

"Oh, the one with the sort-of brownish hair?" Derek nodded again. "She's pretty cute."

"Yeah, I know. I feel bad, feeling this way when we have a job to do. And, like you said, I've known her for only two days." Derek glanced at his friend. "Do you think it's possible? To know the instant you meet someone that—that that's the one you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

Mark shrugged. "Man, if it's not possible, we're both screwed."

"You know, I honestly believe that she's the one. But," he sighed again, "I'm a medic. We live our lives on the edge every single day of this war. What if we don't make it? What if they don't make it?"

Mark furrowed his brow as he thought about that. "I don't know, man." He looked Derek in the eye. "But ever since we landed on that beach in Normandy, I prayed that somehow, someway, we would make it through. Somewhere inside me, there's a hope that we're going to make it home safe and sound. And somewhere, there's a hope that I'm going to be with Addison and you're going to be with Meredith. Because I believe that even though we're facing something incredibly evil, there's good behind it."

A slow smile spread across Derek's face, until it finally reached his eyes. He reached across the still-snoring Burke to grasp Mark's shoulder. "You know, I'm glad I'm not alone in this war. And I guess, even though we're not gonna make it home in the next three days, there's no one else I'd rather be stuck in a foxhole with."

Mark grinned at his best friend and reached up to touch his hand. "Me too, buddy."

* * *

Addison nursed a cup of coffee and wrapped her arms closer to her body, trying to stave off the cold. She watched the horizon on the edge of the town and allowed her thoughts to wander to Mark. Mark. It was ridiculous that she felt this way already. Stupid Addison, falling in love with a soldier that would probably not even make it through this war. She had only met him a couple of times. 

He had come by earlier, carrying another bleeding man to get some help. He hadn't flirted this time. Only looked at her. Allowed his blue eyes to connect with his. And she was startled by what she saw there. Not attraction. Love.

"Hey."

Addison whipped around to see Meredith standing behind her. She thought she saw the younger nurse smile, but she couldn't tell in the dark. "Hey yourself," she whispered, turning back to the road heading into the Ardennes.

She felt Meredith sit down on a box next to her. "Is that coffee I smell?" she asked, sniffing Addison's cup.

Addison chuckled despite herself. "The army's version of coffee. You want some?" She held out the cup to her colleague.

Meredith reached out to take the cup and softly sipped the lukewarm liquid. She grimaced. "Man, that stuff is terrible."

"Yeah," Addison laughed. "It really is."

The two sat in companionable silence, watching the edge of the woods for any sign of anything happening. Meredith sighed deeply. "So tell me about home," she said, still looking down the road.

Addison was caught off guard by the question, and Meredith took her pause as hesitation. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," she said hastily.

"No, it's not that, Meredith. I- I was just a little surprised." Addison looked down at her feet quickly. "It's no place really special. My family's in New York."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The New York Montgomeries." Through the deepening darkness, Addison saw Meredith raise her eyebrows. She chuckled. "I guess you'd have to be from New York to know. They're pretty high society. Let's just say they're pretty well off."

"What about the stock market crash?"

Addison shrugged. "My parents kept most of their money out of the banks and in the hands of a private institution. The stock market crash never really affected them."

Meredith glanced at her colleague. "So how did a high society girl end up here?"

The redhead chuckled again. "Kicking and screaming. I wanted to do something to help. And, honestly, I wanted to get away. I couldn't stand all those parties and banquets and the waving and bowing and scraping. I wanted to be my own person. I wanted something more than all of that. Not like my parents really understood."

"You wanted to make a difference somehow."

Addison turned her head to look at Meredith. "You talk like you know."

Now it was Meredith's turn to chuckle. "Something like that." She met Addison's questioning look. "My mother is—how should I put this?—ambitious, at best. She had all these dreams for me. You know, marry a well-off man, have five kids, stay at home and cook and clean and do laundry."

"Lots of women want those things."

"Not me. I want adventure. I want a man who might not be rich, but who loves me nonetheless. I want kids, but I don't necessarily want them to go to Harvard or Yale." She sighed. "I want a life worth living. Not to become a robot whose only job is to serve my husband."

Addison understood. She wanted similar things. "So I guess there's no one back home?"

Meredith raised an eyebrow at her friend. "You mean, of the male variety?" She shook her head, allowing tendrils of light brown hair to escape her bun. "Not really."

"But you've had offers?"

"More than once." Addison laughed, breaking the silence of the cold night air. "But they were all men that my mother liked. It's kind of a turn-off when your mother's sitting there nodding at you while the man's asking you to marry him." She glanced at Addison. "You?"

She shrugged again. "A couple of them showed interest. Friends of my parents. Or sons of friends of my parents. No one I could really love." She hesitated, unsure if she should continue.

"What?" Meredith prodded, seeing she was in deep thought.

Addison laughed uncertainly. "It's a dumb question."

"No, come on. What?"

She sighed deeply, then turned to look Meredith in the eyes. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Meredith was caught slightly off guard, and Addison laughed again. "See? Dumb question."

"No, not at all," Meredith answered hastily. She inhaled and looked off down the road again. "You know, if you had asked me that question this morning, I probably would have said 'No'."

"And now?" Addison prompted.

A slow smile began to creep across Meredith's face. "I think I might." She glanced back at Addison. "Do you?"

"I think I believe in a lot of things now that I didn't when this war first started."

"What changed your mind?"

Addison smiled and looked down at her feet. "Would you believe a medic?" She laughed. "I feel like a love-sick teenager."

Meredith joined in with her laughter. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I—uh—think I might be in love with a medic myself."

"Which one?" Addison's tone was cheerful, but her eyes darkened slightly.

"Derek Shepherd. With the 101st."

"You're kidding." Meredith shook her head, and Addison guffawed. "Who woulda thought?"

Meredith raised her eyebrow slightly. "Thought what? Not you, too?"

Addison shook her head, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Mark Sloan. With the 101st."

Meredith couldn't contain her smile any longer. "Well, how about that?"

"See, I always said that when I fell in love, it would be forever. You know, no-holds-barred, head-first, no-looking-back kind of love." Addison sighed. "What if we don't survive this war?"

Meredith placed a hand on her friend's arm. "That's where faith comes in."

Addison snorted. "Faith. Faith in what? God?"

"I don't know. But I do know this: Somehow, there is good in this world. There's something worth fighting for. God, or Mark, or Derek, or somebody. We've just got to cling to that hope."

Addison let those words sink into her brain. It made sense. There was some good reason that they were in a strange foreign land, waiting for daylight. She felt a smile rise to her lips from the depths of her heart. "Yeah," she whispered. "Faith."


End file.
